Go To Sleep
by Elemental-756
Summary: Go To Sleep.


_It is advised for the citizens of Gravity Falls to stay vigilant. The man is exceedingly dangerous and potentially hostile. He is wanted for over a dozen counts of murders and at least a hundred assaults all across the country, all in the past year. Please, if you see this ma-_

Shandra didn't finish her broadcast outside the Jimenez's house (the victims) because Mabel turned the TV off. It was late at 10:00pm, it was dark, and she was tired and alone. She had full intentions of sleeping tonight without a horror story you'd tell at a campfire of a killer roaming the town to give her nightmares. She'd managed to turn off the TV before they showed a picture of his bleached white face and carved out smile, thank God. She'd had her fair share of the creepy and disturbing and even still did to this day, but she had never and didn't want to see a human's depiction of a monster and, in addition, thanks to little girl's interview just moments before, her description of this man was not one Mabel wanted to see under any circumstance. But what a poor girl: waking up to find a stranger staring at you, grinning, and then trying to kill you. It was a miracle she had the guts to scream out in fear hence signalling her father to come bursting in her room with a double barrel shotgun only to get stabbed in the shoulder, but not before firing a single shot causing the killer to scramble out the window and off into the woods, bleeding heavily. Mabel would be lying if she said that she wasn't scared. She believed that he existed, that he was out there right now and knowing how close the Mystery Shack was to the woods made the danger all too real for her, but the chances of surviving a shotgun shell to the leg at point blank range were...bleak... Then there was the fact that she was alone, except Waddles. Grunkle Stan was with his new G.F and Dipper was at his boyfriend's house doing a sleepover (sarcastically speaking). Oh, she wished she was somewhere else right now or at least with someone. She didn't feel safe, secure and she hated being alone. But, mindless, it was highly unlikely that a psychopathic murder was going to disturb her anytime soon tonight, or any night, so she rubbed her eyes and slid off the living room chair in that SD card nightgown she wore every night, slipped on her fluffy pink bunny slippers and dreaded into the kitchen. She yawned when she opened the fridge to be blinded by the light it cast, but was able to ignore it as she grabbed the milk carton. Then there was her lilac mug that was retrieved from the shelf and then the rainbow jar of cookies. Making the iconic late time condolence of milk &amp; cookies and consuming it very slowly she then returned the items to their domains and dawdled upstairs. She could see Waddles curled up on Dipper's bed fast asleep. The sight made her feel dreary herself and it took full effect when she collapsed into her own, kicked off her footwear to hear them land softly on the floor randomly and drew the duvet over her small and fragile frame. It was cold; just the way she liked it. She burrowed up deep and fell asleep within seconds.

Of course she's jinxed herself thinking that the killer wouldn't come here. Of course he'd come here. It was Gravity Falls; she was Mabel Pines. It was inevitably going to happen, but the outcome was unknown. But, truth be told, it was actually funny that she thought she was safe as as she slept peacefully in a world of dreams, he was limping as fast as he could with only one good leg. He wasn't running from anyone or anything as nothing was behind him. He was running just in case something chose to. He was unarmed, bleeding, tired, hungry, dehydrated, the usual. He eventually stopped to lean on a tree and look down at his wound. Blood was all he saw, but immeasurable pain was all he felt. He clenched his teeth as he wiggled his fingers inside the wound until he ripped out a piece of shell and hopefully the last. He needed medical attention, but his options were limited. No hospital would help him, no one would help him... He threw the piece on the floor and anger. He put his face in his hands and screamed into them. He had chosen this life, but he was always reminded that better ones were out there. He looked around to decide on his next move. But that was when his eyes fell upon a sign nailed into the tree next to him.

**Mystery Shack?**

He looked to the ground once more, and inspected it further, to see a faint footpath intended for the public. He was near shelter. His corrupt heart lit up at the thought and he stepped out onto the footpath. He could see through the tree line to the faintest of silhouettes: A big wooden A on the roof a building. He started laughing-a horrible sound-and walked over to it, now ignoring the burning pain. Ah, beautiful! No cars, no lights, no life, no nothing. No one was home or so he assumed. However, his mind was too far gone to even check to see if someone was currently residing in the building as when he smashed the window that led into the kitchen Mabel was alarmingly awoken by it. She heard it. She heard him moving around down there doing who knows what. He was only looking for medical supplies to fix up his leg and maybe some food, other things, but she didn't know that. Instead her mind ran away at all the possibilities that befell her as she clenched her duvet tightly hoping its protect her.

A) He was the killer.

B) He wasn't.

Those were the two prime possibilities with each having spider diagrams sprouting out with their own variables, but either way there was still an intruder in the house. It was at times like these that Mabel wished there was an alarm in the building and she wished that she had her own phone to call the police, but the only one was downstairs where he was, whoever he was. But whoever he was he was scaring her. She could hear him moving things around, perhaps he was just looking for something. Or looking for her. Oh God did he know she was here?! No, he wouldn't make that much noise if he knew there was someone present. That's good, that's good. If he doesn't know you're here then when he's done doing whatever he's doing then he'll leave...right?... But then Waddles started squealing... He just had to didn't he. Mabel looked to him to see him squealing towards the door like a dog barking.

"Waddles." She whispered to him. "Waddles, shut up." She then commanded, but he didn't. She wondered if she should get up and do it herself, silence him, but she heard running. She heard him running upstairs so quickly and frantically. She bounded out her bed and made it for the closet that she opened, went in and closed behind her, locking it from the inside-at least that had been installed. From there she opened up the latch hidden in the wall that opened a door and crawled into the tiny secret panic room built specifically for her-in her opinion-and waited. She clamped her hands over her mouth to halt her frantic breathing and ceased all movement in the small cramp space. She'd made it just in time as the door burst open seconds later. She heard him walk over to Waddles and silence him. A scream of pain came from the pig that caused it's owner to squint and tense, but there was nothing she could do. All she could do was sit there. She could hear his breathing, a dripping noise. Oh God.

Jeff surveyed the room he was in. Ignoring the blood dripping from the kitchen knife and the body on the floor, he saw what he guessed was a girl's bed in shambles and he saw pink slippers littered on the floor. He amusingly breathed before entering full scale laughter. He looked to the closet. He'd rip it off right now and embrace the girl that was in there BECAUSE HE KNEW THAT SHE WAS, but he needed to fix his leg first then...then he'd see to her if he felt like it and had the time. So, he walked out to try and find a first aid kit or...something...that would help.

Mabel heard his footsteps track out the room. They dragged on until she could no longer hear them when he reached the base of the stairs to resume his search. She let out a sigh of relief, but it was a short lived one as realisation hit her that she couldn't leave. She could try and get the phone, but he was down there. And if he was-... Her mind stopped when the door to the Mystery Shack opened then closed. Oh my God. He's just walked out... Has he?... She could hear silence. Could it be? She was hesitant, but she slowly and quietly slipped out the panic room, unlocked the closet door which she ever so slowly opened. It creaked, but she wouldn't be here for much longer. She exited the attic bedroom, ignoring Waddles with a hollow heart, and looked out the window that was near the stairs. She couldn't see anything. Was the intruder really gone? She...she had to make sure. And if he was still here then she knew where the guns were. She looked down the staircase to see the inky blackness below welcoming her to it's abyss. She took a very deep breath and calmly walked down, but remaining cautious. Her weight made little sound as she stepped on those ancient stairs.

First floor: Dead quiet, but with a single light coming from Stan's bedroom. She approached the slightly open door and peaked inside. The back of a man in a white hoodie awaited her. He was sitting there with a red box on his side. He was tending to a massive bloody wound on his leg.

_Taking a shotgun shell at point blank range_... Shit. It really was him. And he was still here. She backed up, thankful that he was oblivious to her and oblivious that his plan to lure her out had been successful, and reached the staircase. She slid down on the banister to move faster and reduce noise. She snuck her way through the living room and into the kitchen...but she screamed out in pain when she stepped on a piece of broken glass. A stupid move on her part. A rustle from upstairs followed with him running downstairs. She moved quickly to throw open the cupboards and produce the colt revolver hidden amongst the cans when he tumbled over the living room chair. She gripped it firmly with both hands, hobbling on one leg, doing her best to stop herself from crying from the pain she felt, just as he appeared in the kitchen doorway with a knife in one hand and a gun being aimed at him. Mabel wasn't playing around and he could see that in her eyes. Under the tears that were welling up and how tense she was from pain he could see how serious she was. But fear filled her face when she saw his own. It was a horrifying sight, but one she wouldn't allow to affect her too dearly.

"Hi, kid." He said to her, putting the knife down and raising his hands up to signal surrender. She was struggling to decide if he was actually smiling at her or if it was his permanent carved out one. What face would he have right now if it was normal?

"I'll do it." She hissed, slightly losing balance. Jeff saw her distress. It amused him, her pain. If she thought a bit of glass in her foot was bad then she was in for a world of surprise.

"That looks like it hurts." He said to her, staring with unblinking eyes at her dripping foot. "You might need some help." He then added.

"You do too." She remarked, looking to the throbbing eton mess sprawled out over his leg. Oh it definitely looked like it hurt, but his face didn't show it. How convenient for him.

"Maybe we could...help each other?" He suggested, stuttering. "You could help with...my leg and I could fix your foot." He added. "Then I'll leave and...you can go back to sleep. Wouldn't you like that? To...go to sleep." He'd clearly forgotten about the dead pig on the floor up there. Mabel just stared at him. He took the time to survey her and he saw one flaw: She had never used a gun before. He took a step towards her, she hopped back almost losing her balance.

"GET BACK!" She screamed. He still slowly advanced, slow enough so that she didn't fall over. "I'LL SHOOT YOU!" She added.

"No you won't." He whispered. "You've...never used a gun before." He then added, now only a foot away from her.

"I have!" She argued.

"Then why haven't you...pulled the hammer back?" He asked. Before she could do so he grabbed the barrel of the gun and pulled it from her grip, tossing it aside, it landing near the table. Then he grabbed her by the neck and thrust her onto the floor, using his knees to pin her arms. She gagged before squirming vigorously as he began to strangle her. Fear was the only expression on her face as the tears started streaming out her ducts and death began to crawl it's way up to her. She tried to talk, beg, but only gurgles came out. He started laughing as her face went red. That was when she grabbed a large glass shard, it slightly cutting her palm, and thrust it into his forearm-the only thing available-causing him to yelp. The arm released, she reached out for the gun only to have him grab her arm once more; the other hand still round her neck. She struggled to free herself and was finally able to get her arm free as her's wasn't bleeding. She punched on the side of his face, hard, causing him to be slightly blown off. She grabbed the gun, this time pulling the hammer back, and shot him when he advanced her again. The sound echoed throughout the house. It was a loud sound and Mabel dropped the thing to clutch her ears, but she was relieved when she saw his limp body. She got up as quickly as she could with only one good for and hopped into the kitchen where the phone awaited her. She grabbed it with her shaking hands and dialled 911. It started ringing, but Mabel could do little as whisper when she felt bloody hands cover her mouth and pull her back. She couldn't even struggle as her back was dragged into cold steel. It hurt, but it was so cold. Her heat began to ooze out of her as she was laid carefully on the floor.

"_Hello_? _Hello is someone there_?" The faint voice of the phone muttered to her.

"Sorry. I called the wrong number." Jeff ushered into the thing before hanging up then slitting the wire. Then he looked down at Mabel with disgust. His collarbone was still gushing blood from where he'd been shot, but he was still alive and kicking. He squatted down to get closer to her, the knife still in his hand. "It's okay." He said to her reassuringly, stroking her soft brown hair as she lay in a pool of her own blood. He knew what she was experiencing: pain. She was even slightly twitching and shaking as he got his face so close to her own. And her face was drowned with fear whereas he was smiling sympathetically. "Just..." He began, gently resting the tip of the blade by her adam's apple. "Just...go to sleep." He whispered motheringly. Then he rammed the blade into her neck. She'd put up a good fight, but this was how it had to end.


End file.
